


The Magic Eight Ball(s)

by lucycamui



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Adventurous sexual positions that should be attempted with caution, Anal Sex, Humor, M/M, Multiple Sex Positions, Or not at all, Romance, Smut, Victor has a Yuuri kink, Yuuri has a language kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 11:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15508557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucycamui/pseuds/lucycamui
Summary: Victor and Yuuri get a gift from Chris, of a magic eight ball that suggests sexual positions rather than answering questions. They decide to try one... or all.





	The Magic Eight Ball(s)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GenuineFirefly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenuineFirefly/gifts).



> A gift for genuine-firefly, who gave me this wonderful prompt. If Googling the positions in question, use caution and don't do so in public.

_“As it is off-season, I thought to encourage your new love with a gift from yours truly. Victor, I hope you discover how flexible Yuuri is in the most wondrous of ways. Kisses.”_ Chris’s signature looped the bottom of the note which had accomplished the delivery from their friend.

Yuuri’s chin rested atop Victor’s shoulder, reading from behind him. He hummed with amusement, reaching around to pick up the actual gift. The label and packing was of a slick black, with elegant white font giving the description entirely in French. However, from the illustrated diagrams on the back of the small box, Yuuri had a good guess as to the contents. He should not have expected anything less from Chris.

“How does he know how flexible you are?” Victor asked, head tipped back, lips skimming Yuuri’s cheek.

“We always did our stretches together when we were competing in Juniors,” Yuuri replied. The first person to have ever flirted with him had been Chris. Admittedly, perhaps there had been others whose comments had not filtered as such in Yuuri’s head. Chris, on the other hand, had smacked his ass while Yuuri had been doing toe-touches with his legs shoulder-width apart, dropping a line about how he _hadn’t realized that Japanese peaches were in season_. It had taken Yuuri an online search and questioning an American skater confirm the meaning, having at that point not yet been entirely familiar with English slang. But the intent was direct enough even Yuuri couldn’t overlook it.

Highly inappropriate, maybe, but they had been teenage boys with developing libidos and a good friendship. Plus, it was thanks to that Yuuri had realized, yes, he did in fact possess a very nice Japanese peach. One that years later had helped him snag the greatest skater and fiancé in the world. So, Yuuri did not complain.

“I learn something new about you every day. Next you’ll tell me he was your first kiss,” Victor said, taking the gift out of Yuuri’s hands. He inspected it himself, opening the box to find a miniature booklet inside with an instructional guide. Underneath sat an inconspicuous magic eight ball.

“Not my first…”

Victor gasped, fingers slipping. “Yuuri! You’ve kissed Chris?!”

“You haven’t?”

The lack of immediate response had Yuuri laughing, snatching the ball out of Victor’s hands. He gave it a shake and when the result came up, his cheeks went as red as the watermelon slice they’d shared after lunch. The magic-eight ball, as it would be being a gift from Chris, generated not responses to a question but the name of a sexual position. Like with the box it came in, the text was in French, but Yuuri could understand the word _ballerine_ without assistance. “Oh…”

“Oh?” Victor leaned in, reading the response for himself.

Without checking, Yuuri was pretty sure that referred to a position quite similar to the one he and Victor had risked in the shower a few days back. The one with Yuuri’s right leg stretched up toward the ceiling, thigh supported by one of Victor’s strong hands, Yuuri’s body racked with the force of Victor’s thrusts into him.

“Where does he find these things?” Victor asked, standing up. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling his bangs back before letting them fall. He smiled at Yuuri and winked. “Maybe we can try it out sometime when we’re feeling adventurous.”

Victor walked off, headed toward the kitchen. Cleaning up the dining table had been interrupted by the package delivery, but Yuuri did not feel like washing dishes in that moment. He dug out his phone and texted a quick thanks to Chris, before muting it. Taking a deep breath, Yuuri turned and cocked his head to one side, biting his bottom lip. “We could try now?”

The running tap water was switched off and Victor came into the living room, wiping his hands on a towel. “Now?”

Yuuri nodded and smiled as he gave the ball in his hand another shake. “Now.”

Victor threw the towel back into the kitchen. “Let me take a quick shower first.”

With Victor rushing off for the bathroom, Yuuri quickly cleared the table and kitchen so Makkachin did not sneak anything for herself while they were occupied. He then ran to the bedroom, tossing the ball on the bed as he stripped off his shirt and shimmied out of his pants. His thumbs had hooked into the line of his briefs when he was caught from behind, laughing at the kisses to the back of his neck and shivering at the water droplets that fell onto his skin. “You didn’t dry off well,” he scolded as Victor walked them forward to the bed, helping Yuuri push his underwear down the rest of the way.

“Aren’t I gonna get you dripping wet anyway?” Victor purred and licked Yuuri’s ear, making him squeal with laughter.

“That’s not sexy,” Yuuri protested, turning in Victor’s arms. Lingering droplets of shower water adorned Victor’s skin and Yuuri made a point of kissing a couple off his collarbone. The tips of Victor’s hair were damp and Yuuri swept his bangs back, kissing Victor full on, groaning at the heated response. He could already feel Victor’s arousal against his own and broke away to grab for the magic eight ball.

Victor’s lips moved across Yuuri’s jaw, hands sliding down to grasp firmly at his buttocks. Smile stretched wide, Yuuri gave their gift a good shake. They watched the multi-sided dice inside come to the surface.

“ _Coureur du siège arrière_ ,” Victor read off, his pronunciation smooth and flawless, accented in a way that had Yuuri’s legs turning to jello. The reminder that Victor was fluent in French always left Yuuri weak whenever he had the rare treat of hearing him speak it.

“What’s that mean?” Yuuri asked, ready to contort himself into any position for Victor.

“The back seat racer?” Victor replied, though his sexy tone had dropped into one of uncertainty.

Yuuri paused, imagination grappling for an image. His mind turned to the scandalized realization that he and Victor had yet to have sex in a car. Perhaps they could take a road trip for the European Championships next year. “I don’t know that one.”

“Me neither.”

Laughing, Yuuri grabbed Victor’s hand and dragged him back into the living room, finding the discarded instructional booklet. It folded out and Victor skimmed through the diagrams of more than creative positions until he landed on the right one. They traded looks.

“Are you supposed to be sitting for it?” Yuuri asked, tilting his head to try to figure it out.

“Maybe, if we’re on the edge of a bed? It won’t work on a chair or sofa, cause your legs need to go back.”

“I think our bed is too high,” Yuuri replied. The angle would make it difficult to get more an inch inside, max. “I think you need to squat?”

“Where does he find these things?” Victor repeated the same question from before, sitting down on the couch and tugging Yuuri down into his lap. Yuuri leaned into Victor, back to Victor’s chest and head tipped up. In his fingers, he kept the booklet open to the designated position, accepting a kiss and mewling when Victor’s tongue slipped into his mouth.

From under the cushion against the arm of the sofa, Yuuri pulled a hideaway travel-sized bottle of lube. Two or three movie nights turned to handjobs and riding had necessitated the addition of the accessory. There was one in the kitchen drawers too, and one in the shower. The honeymoon phase was alive and kicking.

Yuuri rocked back into Victor’s lap, spreading his legs, soles of his feet resting on the edge of the sofa. He moaned into the kiss when Victor’s hands slid over his hips and trailed down, one hand wrapping around his cock while the other teased at his entrance. Yuuri could get off just like that, spoiled by Victor’s touch, indulging in proximity. His hips lifted of their own accord when Victor slipped a finger in, stretching him out with care. No skating on the schedule for tomorrow, but they had business and errands to attend. If necessary, Victor probably would carry him everywhere, but the sponsors they were supposed to meet would likely not be too thrilled about that.

Two, then three had Yuuri arching, trying to guide Victor’s fingers onto his prostate, which Victor seemed to be deliberately avoiding. He mewled in a plea and received a nip to his lips in return. “L-let’s try it?” Victor asked, voice rasping already. Yuuri could feel Victor’s cock pressed into the small of his back, hard and leaking precum which smeared across his skin with each shifting movement.

Yuuri climbed off, missing the feel of Victor against him for the moment, but the separation didn’t last. They grabbed the booklet, checking the position again. Victor’s chuckle rolled across the nape of his neck, sending shivers down Yuuri’s spine. “Think you can do it?”

“It’ll be like a push up for me, you’re the one who has to hold position,” Yuuri answered. They moved to the open space beside the sofa, swapping a kiss before attempting what had been chosen for them. Victor squatted and Yuuri planted his palms on the floor, kicking his legs up. Victor caught him by the calves and guided him back, until Yuuri’s ass met his groin. Keeping his legs out straight behind Victor, Yuuri gave a wiggle. Victor’s hands tightened on his hips.

“I think this is meant for a het couple,” Yuuri muttered, head dropped between his shoulders. “Can you get it in?”

Victor hummed, thumbs digging into the plush of Yuuri’s ass. He guided Yuuri in closer and lifted his own hips, pushing inside.

Lashes fluttering, Yuuri watched from underneath, groaning at the start of being filled. “Ahhh, more.”

“Unless one of us dislocates something I don’t think I can, darling,” Victor responded, giving a short buck of his hips. The head of his cock dragged an inch inside, stretching Yuuri’s rim. Yuuri tried angling his hips further down, spine convexing, muscles pulling in his shoulders. Victor thrust again and Yuuri moaned. He pushed back, rocking into Victor’s lap and pulling out a swear and encouragement. “Mmm, fuck, like that, love.”

Yuuri fucked back, Victor’s grip bruising his hips, but even with a matched rhythm, it wasn’t enough. With a spot of frustration, Yuuri let his legs fall and crawled around, crashing their lips together. “Another one, I want you deeper.”

This time, Victor found the ball and shook it. _“Le grand écart.”_

Forget positions, Yuuri would need to request Victor feed him dirty lines and sweet nothings in French. “The grand cart?”

“Split. _Écart_ means split,” Victor answered, his hands tracing Yuuri’s inner thighs.

Split. Yuuri could do a split. They had done it in a split before, Yuuri’s legs out at 180, body craned all the way forward against the mattress as Victor pounded him into it. “What makes it grand?”

“Check.”

What made the split grand was apparently the employment of two chairs. Victor supported Yuuri as he set one foot atop the seat of a dining table chair, the second on another positioned far enough apart to put Yuuri into a mid-air split. His fingertips brushed the backs of the chairs, holding him from swaying. If Victor let go, Yuuri had no doubt in his mind he would go falling forward, balance unsteady. That did not matter when Victor kissed the center of his shoulder blades and thrust in, filling Yuuri all the way on a single stroke.

“V-vitu… Vitusha...” Yuuri moaned out, sighing heavily as Victor bottomed out inside him. Yuuri’s knuckles went white from gripping at the backs of the chairs. That was good, that was manageable. The height allowed Victor to thrust deep and hard, Yuuri screwing his eyes shut. His thighs strained, tensing to hold himself and not let his feet split further apart like he was tempted. Victor’s forehead dropped against the curve of his spine and Yuuri briefly had the thought to send Chris a proper thank you note, pushing back onto Victor when he pulled out.

The shift of his weight on the chairs sent them tipping back. Yuuri yelled out Victor’s name, caught around the waist, but neither could correct their stance. One of the chairs kicked out from under Yuuri, scraping across the floor. Yuuri fell, knocking Victor back, and in the next moment they were sprawled on the floor, limbs tangled and heads bumped.

Victor pressed his lips against the sore spot on the back of Yuuri’s head, dropping his own onto Yuuri’s shoulder. “That was very good until it wasn’t,” he chuckled. Yuuri concurred.

They checked each other over, making sure no ankles were twisted and no butts were bruised, before they noticed Makkachin with her eyes on them, judging from her bed in the corner of the living room. They hastily retreated to the privacy of the bedroom.

Another position, dubbed _la paire de pinces,_ they dismissed after a few minutes proved the bed mattress to be far too bouncy to get anything accomplished. The next one came up _l’accordéon érotique_ , which reduced Yuuri into a fit of giggles so profound he had to clutch at his sides to soothe the ache. “T-the… erotic... accordian?”

After two attempts to fold themselves into the proper position, Victor laid back, knees to his chest with Yuuri sitting atop him while they gripped onto each other’s forearms. One backward slide by Yuuri had Victor flopping over. He curled into himself, hands cupped down between his legs, letting out a low whine of owwww as Yuuri apologized repeatedly for nearly breaking his dick.

“This is ridiculous.” Victor pouted against Yuuri’s tiny pecking kisses, blue eyes shimmering with pained mist. “I’m not even hard anymore…”

Yuuri could fix that. He dropped down to his knees and clenched Victor’s thighs tight in his hands. Devilish eyes up, he wrapped his lips around the head of Victor’s cock and then swallowed him down in one go. Victor’s left leg jerked in reaction, a swear slipping off his tongue as all blood raced south for the border. Three bobs of the head and Yuuri ran the flat of his tongue up the length of Victor’s renewly hardened cock, popping off it with a smirk. “Now fuck me ridiculous.”

Victor’s expression was one of conflict, as if he were between laughing or suffering a stroke from how hot that was.

They had to shake the magic eight ball a couple times to get a new suggestion, Victor translating _les autos tamponneuses_ to _bumper cars_. That one, despite their primary doubts, turned out very well.

“Ahhh, f-fuck, Yuuri-- this is… c-close your legs?”

Biting into bedsheets, Yuuri nodded. Victor was above him, but not in the conventional sense. They faced opposite ends of the bed, both on their stomachs, ass to ass, with Victor buried deep. Yuuri closed his legs, Victor granting him a kiss to his ankles and the soles of both feet before he shifted onto all fours. Yuuri was afraid he was going to tear through the fabric of their bedding, Victor driving into him, rolling his hips to make sure Yuuri felt every inch.

“I’m… I’m so close…” Yuuri breathed out, ass up, chasing each stroke that gleamed past his prostate, a constant tease without being fully there.

“Wanna… t-try one more?” The magic eight ball had gone off the bed at some point, discarded, neither caring to retrieve it.

Yuuri searched his mind, memory clasping on for something he’d wanted to try. “A-amazon…”

Use of French abandoned, Victor cursed in Russian. Sitting back, he slapped Yuuri’s ass for good measure and dismounted, falling onto his back. Arms held out for Yuuri, he welcomed a sloppy kiss before Yuuri spread his long legs, pushing them back so Yuuri could raise himself up into the reverse missionary style. When he sank down onto Victor, Yuuri had to pause, head thrown back, a split second away from it all ending if he did not give himself a moment to calm.

Victor bucked up and Yuuri almost pitched forward, jaw tightening. “D-don’t move,” he instructed and raised himself up a fraction of an inch before falling back down. He rotated his hips, grinding down, rocking in minute thrusts onto Victor’s cock because each little shift had him rubbing at just the right angle.

When Yuuri opened his eyes, Victor was wrecked. His arms were up behind his head, grip tight around a pillow. His kiss-bitten lips were parted and wet, chest rising and falling with blush painting his cheeks and his pecs. Silver hair previously damp from the shower was damp with sweat, clinging to his skin. He looked as gone as when it was Yuuri pistoning relentless into his body. “Yuuri, Yuuchan, mou... mou sukoshi…” Victor was going to make Yuuri insane through languages alone.

Yuuri dropped forward, wrapping his arms around Victor and tugging him into a kiss neither could sustain with the rapid pace of their breathing. “Isshou ni ne. Isshou ni ikou.”

Victor’s hands stumbled down his chest, stroking between them till they found Yuuri’s cock. They stuttered over him, rhythm mismatched, breaking frantically. Yuuri bit Victor’s lip as he came, clenching hard and spasming around him till he felt the dribble of Victor’s cum leaking out and sliding down his thighs.

They laid together for a minute, catching their breath, pressing kisses to each other’s mouths. Once their hearts stopped racing, Yuuri shifted onto his elbows, gazing down at Victor with a smile. “So how much do we tell Chris?”

“Yuuuuuri,” Victor whined, closing his eyes, arm thrown over his face in dramatic fashion. “You’re thinking of other men in bed?”

“Answer the question, Vitusha.”

“Half.”

“Excluding the bad half?”

“See, you are my soulmate.”

Yuuri nuzzled in, face tucked under Victor’s chin. Their legs tangled together naturally. “You’ll have to message him entirely in French.”

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you? Mon amour?”

“Oui.”

They laughed together, Victor’s arms tightening around Yuuri in embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> _Translation notes:_
> 
> la paire de pinces = the pair of pliers
> 
> "Mou... mou sukoshi…" = "A bit more"
> 
> "Isshou ni ne. Isshou ni ikou." = Together. Let's come together.
> 
> Come find me on tumblr [@lucycamui](https://lucycamui.tumblr.com/)


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